


True Narcissism

by crocodilepatronus



Series: True Narcisissm-verse [1]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Other, Rimming, Self-cest, selfcest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocodilepatronus/pseuds/crocodilepatronus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas Barrow selfcest. Smutty and cracky and delightful. Read the author's notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok this is a roleplay that is very silly and started out very silly with me (crocodilepatronus) saying that I would only give up a hoarded URL if someone let me be their valet with a picture of s1 thomas smirking up at the duke. to which notfoul-barrow responded with saying they'd be my valet anyday. There's been an ongoing joke that I'm Thomas Barrow because of parallels between us and notfoul-barrow roleplays Thomas so it quickly dissolved into a Thomas Barrow selfcest roleplay. Some people expressed an interest in seeing the roleplay in it's entirety in chronological order so here it is- I'm only sorry the reaction images can't be included in the text.  
> It can also be read WITH reaction images at:  
> http://crocodilepatronus.tumblr.com/tagged/true+narcissism  
> or  
> http://notfoul-barrow.tumblr.com/tagged/true%20narcissism

(please read the author's notes. crocodilepatronus signals that I am writing and that I am writing as season 1 Thomas Barrow. notfoul-barrow signals that it's being written by ao3 user IconofSelfIndulgence who is writing as Thomas Barrow at the end of season 3.)

**crocodilepatronus:**

“Now…” 

he looked in the other Thomas's eye and quirked an eyebrow suggestively.

“….shall I undress you….?” 

 

**notfoul-barrow:**

Amused, a small smirk forms on his face as he sits upon the bed, but it was so very surreal to have essentially yourself undressing you and looking at you with those very blue and seductive eyes. But hey, what the hell. He didn’t care. 

He cleared his throat, leaning back ever so slightly, pressing his elbows against the bed. “I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

He walked over to the bed, kneeling on the floor to untie Thomas's shoelaces and then pulling his socks off, letting his own cold fingers trail down the white skin of the other man's leg and then leaning forward and letting his tongue flick across the bone by Thomas's ankle. He repeated the procedure on the other foot and then pressed his thumb into the sole of Thomas's foot, rubbing gently. 

“after all… we both know hard you work. Need someone to take care of you too.” he says, with a slight shrug, using two hands now to slowly massage Thomas's foot. 

 

**notfoul-barrow : **

He hums in appreciation as the other brushes against his ankle and can’t help but let a small moan of pleasure escape him at the feeling of his tongue. This must have been some fucked up form of narcissism, but a man can dream, can’t he?

He wondered if this  _was_  a dream or if he had just had too much to drink that night. Either way…

“And you  _do_  know how to take care of me quite well, don’t you?” He mused, leaning forward to brush his thin fingers through the other’s lovely raven hair.

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

He leaned back into the touch of the other man’s fingers through his hair. It made him almost want to purr. Not that he would of course. He was a professional after all. And if anyone was going to be moaning it would be the other Thomas, not himself. He’d make fine sure of that. He stood up again, abruptly and nudged the other man’s knees apart enough so that he could kneel between them and begin unbuttoning his shirt, bottom to top… He took the waistcoat off and ran his hands once across the starched fabric underneath before beginning to unbutton his shirt, with much more care, leaning up on his haunches to reach the top buttons first and placing a kiss where the dark hair on his chest first peaked out. 

“I know what you’re worth…” he said, placing another kiss lower down, at the center of his chestbone. “…so for you I don’t mind at all calling you ‘milord’” he trailed off as he unbuttoned the last of his shirt and placed his mouth on his collarbone, sucking hard enough so that there’d be a mark the next morning. He wanted to push him down on the bed and climb atop him but instead he leaned back once more and began to undo the 2 buttons by his wrists, feeling all the while the heat building in his pants

 

**notfoul-barrow : **

Thomas blinked several times as his younger self pushed his way in between his legs and smirked up at him, admiring how beautiful he once was. His hand carded through the hair on the back of the other’s head as he undressed him, letting his eyes close as he relaxed under the other’s careful touch. Definitely had too much cider, but he hadn’t been shagged or touched like this in ages, and who better to handle him but himself?

Thomas grasped his hair tightly, pulling on it ever so slightly as those lips met flesh. The second moan that escaped him, louder than the first, had been at the admission of superiority. If only  _everyone_  could have called him milord. It really put him on a strange sort of high. “ _Fuck,”_ He lowered his hand down to the younger’s neck, brushing his thumb against it at the love bite, and then opened his eyes, his face flushed red as the other leaned down to unbutton his cuffs. 

“Tease.” He chuckled, eyes hooded with lust.

 

**crocodilepatronus : **

Thomas smirked at that. Sure he was a tease. And he’d teased himself before too. Alone in his room with his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, delaying the orgasm even as he gasped for breath and keened he’d make himself hold out to the last minute. And this? Wasn’t so different. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, milord.” he said coolly, but his pants were tented now and everytime the older Thomas pulled on his hair it felt like an electric current through him. “I’m just doing my job.” he said as he pulled thomas’s shirt completely off, taking a moment to appraise his own torso. He smiled. not bad… if I do say so myself… 

He got on his knees once more and unbuttoned Thomas’s pants, this time with less slow care and more hurried lust. He was already hard of course- he had to be because they both were - but he grasped it and began to wank him off anyway until pre-cum was leaking from the head before swirling his tongue around the tip then taking it all in one swallow to the base, his hands curling against Thomas’s thighs as he did so.

 

**notfoulbarrow:**

Thomas chuckled at the other’s feigned innocence. Ah, he remembered being so young and guarded, so young and seductive and  _brilliant._  He watched eagerly as the other pulled off his shirt, feeling just a hint of embarrassment at the weight he’d gained over the years. Maybe he was enjoying Mrs. Patmore’s cooking a bit too much, but he swallowed back that feeling, translating it into a lustful gaze as he reached his knuckles to brush against the other’s cheek. “You’re so very pretty, Barrow.” And he was.

He spread his legs out more when the other leaned forward and bit his lower lip when the younger hurriedly unbuttoned his trousers. He grabbed at the sheets of this bed, bowing his head forward and gasping loudly when his member was grabbed. He moaned helplessly, watching the other work quickly and methodically. It was like he was watching himself do this to a lord who—

_Oh._

“Thomas,” He whispered, trying not to lose himself in the sensations so quickly, but when that raven-haired boy put his mouth over his dick, the heat was enough to make him cum right then and there.  _“Thomas_ ,” He said again, grabbing the other’s hair, tugging a little harder than he intended. “I’m not like  _them._  Make this last. Let me pleasure you as well—” He bucked his hips forward instinctively, grinding his teeth together, a hissed whine escaping him. 

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

He liked the feeling of his hands in his hair especially with the gloved hand. It added a new texture… leather… felt nice. Though between the two of them he didn’t think the scar looked too horrible either. I mean, aesthetically ‘course it wasn’t nice but he thought it was sort of a badge of honor even if it was a blighty. He didn’t think it was a mark of cowardice, he thought what he’d done was dead clever. But maybe after he lived through it himself he’d feel differently… 

He liked the way his own cock tasted between his lips too. He’d always wondered as probably any other hot blooded man did. What it would be like to suck himself off. He wasn’t dissapointed. He liked his taste. Better than Philip. Better than any of them.

He was a little touched that his older self wanted to pleasure him. That certainly was different than the others.  He pulled away, keeping one hand wrapped around the others cock now slick with saliva and letting his fingers stroke it idly as his thumb massaged his balls in slow circles.

“Oh, I’m sure I can handle meself, milord.” he said with a wry twitch of a smile, “as you know.” He leaned down and ran his tongue along the man’s length. He’d had to take care of himself. Sometimes even with another person in the bed. That had been the case with the duke too often. Philip had been falling asleep satisfied and he’d been lying next to him, having to finish himself off with his hand. This would be different. Because if there was anyone in the world Thomas cared about it was himself. 

“And I’ll last longer than you, old man… ah- sorry - milord.” he said, a smirk twisting his mouth as he stood up and undid his own pants and placed his hand in the center of Thomas’s chest, pushing him down onto the bed.

 

**notfoulbarrow:**

Thomas made all kinds of small noises when the other continued his sucking, letting out a gasp as the younger pulled away to speak. “Mm,” He watched him, breath heavy as he continued to stroke. It was funny how soft he’d become in his older age, caring about others, feeling mushy at the touch of another. But he knew this Thomas would come to know such loneliness, a loneliness no person should ever feel. He knew this Thomas would fall in love with Edward Courtenay all over again, and then with Jimmy, only to have his heart smashed to pieces over and over again. He knew this Thomas would meddle in the black market and nearly lose his job several times. If only he could direct this man another way, make him happier, but he didn’t know what  _to_  say, especially not like this, not with his dick being pleased with such skilled hands. 

“I know you can,” The older replied breathlessly. He shivered at that tongue, gasping at the warmth. His shoulders tensed, and he looked down at him. “But I want to—” He tried, but knew this Thomas was too stubborn to listen. He could remember all of those times lying next to Philip, bringing himself off when the prick had already been fast asleep. 

Thomas raised a brow, amused by the other’s forwardness. Though he did not object when he was pushed back, instead staring at the younger man. He wondered what it would be like to kiss himself, especially when he knew how much of a romantic he had been (and still was). The older reached up, brushing his fingers carefully along the other’s face. 

“I hope you do.” He chuckled lowly, grabbing the other by the lapel, pulling him into a deep kiss. 

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

He fell atop him into the embrace, a little surprised at how a few years could change how a man kissed. The other Thomas’s kisses felt desperate and needy- his lips and tongue just a little too eager. He _hoped_  his own kisses didn’t feel like that. He liked to think he played a little bit hard to get.

The man before him was himself but he was different and there was something more fragile about him, he thought. When he allowed his thoughts to linger too long on the way his own face looked but with eyes seeking and lonely he felt a slight chill down his spine.

Not because he’d never seen himself like that but because that was how he saw his own face in the mirror after he woke up or as he got ready for bed… that’s what he looked like before he steeled himself and set his jaw and wiped the emotion from his face purposefully. That’s how he looked when no one was around.

The other Thomas may have felt comfortable enough to show himself that way since he was only with his younger self, but he, young Thomas, Thomas who still hadn’t seen true horrors of the world and who still thought the most important things in life were getting Bates and becoming valet, would not be showing such vulnerability and he pulled out of the kiss with a smirk at hearing his own moan. 

“Been a while since you’ve been touched like this, hasn’t it? Bad news for me I guess.” 

He pulled his own erection out with his hand as he started to kiss him anew and ground his hips against the man beneath him’s. The friction alone was enough to make him start feeli ng a warm tightness in his abdomen that made him wonder if he’d really be able to make it last as long as he’d said. 

He brought his face to the side of Thomas’s, running the tip of his tongue along the shell of his ear. “Tonight, you can have whatever you want.” he whispered roughly in his ear, “you can take me as many times as you like.” he knew that he’d like to hear it. It would be nice to hear after he’d said it so many times. And it had always had a good effect on other men. They wanted to have someone who was pliant to their will. Wasn’t that what being a servant was all about afterall? And Thomas even if he complained downstairs and knew he could do better than just bowing and scraping, knew that he was damn good at his job. 

 

**notfoul-barrow:**

Was it strange to remember how he used to kiss? To feel that hunger behind the younger’s lips, to remember the reserve he had for desperation, but knowing he needed it all the same? Thomas held him close, kissing him until his lips were bruised, savoring it—surely he would never feel this again, whatever happened after this crazy night. His eyes were closed at first, but then he pulled away slowly, staring into those familiar and yet not eyes. He was so guarded, so jaded. If only he would stay that way…

Thomas reached up and ran his fingers along the other’s bangs, remembering how he used to style his hair for the way to make himself look older and more mature. His heart ached for this boy, who  _was_ still merely a boy who had not seen the cruelty of the world—which was not a hundred percent true. At this point, he knew what he had seen, but he knew it would get  _worse,_ and that made him care even more about this man before him. 

He smirked at him, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How very unfortunate for you.” He said lowly, tracing his fingers down, brushing them gently over his cheeks, his jaw. 

Thomas allowed himself to be kissed again, slipping his tongue in between the younger’s lips, not bothering to fight for dominance but instead just kisses feverishly. He groaned into the other’s mouth, rocking his hips up into the younger’s, grabbing onto his shoulder. It had been too long since he had been touched like this. 

He arched his head back against the bed, letting out a soft whine at the feeling of the tongue against his ear. And as nice as it was to hear those words in his ear, to know the other meant it, it still felt  _wrong_ , that he was no better than those aristocrats who wanted to pound into him and then throw him out of the room. Instead of answering at first, he brought his hand around the other’s shoulders, hugging him close. 

“No.” He said softly, trembling at the touch of their erections against themselves. “You’re going to lose control of your life,” Thomas whispered into this ear, nuzzling against his cheek, too affectionate for his own good. “You’re going to lose so much control. You should keep it while you still can. Show me, Thomas. Don’t show me how good at serving I know we are. We’ll be doing it for the rest of our lives.” He laughed weakly at his own misfortune at that statement, but wanted to encourage this Thomas. He could be different.

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

Every fiber of his being bristled at the hug. Was he daft?  _I don’t need a **hug**_  he thought to himself fervently  _I want to get **screwed**  and  **hard**_ … Did he need a hug? He’d lost his job to some arsehole with a limp who couldn’t do it half as well as he would’ve. He’d been betrayed by his lover and lost a chance at becoming a valet yet again in addition to being humiliated. He’d tried his luck with a beautiful Turkish man, been rejected, and had to find his corpse the next morning. And this was all in the span of under a year. It wasn’t exactly the best one of his life, he thought bitterly. But looking at this Thomas he knew it wasn’t going to be his worst either… 

No! Bloody hell, he didn’t need a hug. He shrugged the other Thomas’s arms off him as if the touch had burned him, instead grabbing him by his right wrist and bringing it to his mouth, sucking on two of his fingers obscenely. 

_you’re going to lose control of your life_

He felt like the contents of his stomach had turned to ice. Obviously he would’ve guessed that by looking at this sorry wretch. But it wasn’t nice to hear all the same. He was in control. Things didn’t always turn out how he wanted them to… actually, they rarely did. But he always managed to get out of the bad situations by the skin of his teeth.He was at the Grantham’s beck and call but they weren’t so high above him really. They were too stupid to know he’d been knicking their wine for ages. Oh yes, 5 noble lords and ladies but not half a brain between the lot of them. He’d even taken some money out of Carson’s wallet once when he’d snuck into his pantry. That old loudmouth was as thick as the rest of them even if he was the boss. He, Thomas, was much cleverer than them. He knew their messy scandals and they wouldn’t be private anymore if just one word of his got out. He was in control. And he knew privately even if he called them milord and milady that he was better than them. Could that really change? With his brains and his good looks and his skill he’d never be out of control for long. He believed that….  

He allowed his own thoughts to reassure him momentarily and he pushed them out of his mind. He withdrew Thomas’s fingers from his mouth slowly, they were slick with saliva. He looked between them and the Thomas lying on the bed, naked torso rising and falling unsteadily and his pants pulled halfway down. He pursed his lips with mock contemplation. 

“Then if we’re going to be such rebels…” he said with a slighty twitch up of the corner of his lips as he leaned forward, guiding Thomas’s own hand between his legs, underneath his erection, past his taint… “then why don’t I ask  ** _you_**  to open yourself up for  ** _me_** , milord?” 

He was still dressed but he undid his tie, tossing it aside and unlaced his shoes as quickly as he could, still so hard that it made bending over to do so uncomfortable, and watched himself prep. 

 

**notfoul-barrow:**

He watched mournfully as the other shrugged him away. Oh, this poor soul. He wondered how long it had been since Philip broke him, and then the incident with Pamuk… No matter. This boy had already begun his journey. Soon enough, he would try to pin stealing the wine on Bates, and would in turn get caught himself. But drinking was what helped. It had been back then. (And it still was now at times, even though now he could afford a decent bottle of whiskey if he let it last.) 

Thomas sucked in a breath, watching him suck his fingers. It was erotic to see him doing so, seeing his own face as it took pleasure in doing so. Though he could see the change of emotions — however subtle this Thomas thought they were — in his eyes. He had struck a cord, planted a seed in the younger’s mind. Maybe there was hope for him yet. He gasped as the other continued, his dick throbbing, the need for release nearly taking control of him. 

How desperate he had become. He exhaled a soft breath as the other led his hand to that delicate spot, and he nodded—knowing how much the younger truly did need this. He himself—well—it was past his time. He would take what he got. Thomas pressed his fingers inside of himself slowly, lifting his hips up from the bed, letting out a low whine as he did so. He knew exactly how to touch himself, knew where it felt right—had done it several times before when he needed to feel whole during a lonely night’s wanking. 

In no time, he had himself gasping and whining, and he nearly begged the other to come closer and fill him. Thomas scissored himself, stretching, probing, and then looked up with a red face at the other, some strands of hair falling into his face. “Is this—to your liking?” He asked in between pants, spreading his knees a little more with as much room as he could with his trousers still half up his legs. 

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

He could feel his own blood pulsing in his ears as he undressed himself while watching the older Thomas stretch himself for him. All for him. Just this once it was for him. He threw his shoes off and pulled his shirt over his head, not bothering with buttons. This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity- he wasn’t wasting time on worrying about how much ironing would need to be done.

He kept one hand in a loose fist around his member as he pulled his braces off his shoulders and let them drop to his sides. He was too eager to pull his pants off and he got on his knees on the edge of the bed, looming over the older Thomas, cock in hand watching the other man whimper as he fingered himself. He looked ready. And Thomas, himself, felt ready. He wanted it badly. Wanted to know what he felt like inside himself. The thought alone was making him drip and he tried to control his breathing.

“Yes, I think you’ll do quite nicely, milord Barrow.” he said, his voice husky but with a playful lilt to it.

He grabbed Thomas by the waist and pulled his hips up until his tip was just poking at his entrance.

“You want this….?” he asked roughly. He smirked- no, grinned. A wicked grin. “You  ** _need_**  this.”

He thrust his hips ever so slightly so the head of his cock head began to press just barely into the other man before pulling out again. He wanted so much to fuck himself hard. Why? For all the mistakes he’d made. All the stupid, stupid things he’d done and most of all the stupid things he’d  _felt_. It didn’t matter if he was older or younger- it could have been himself from this very instance and he’d appraise him for being good looking and for being clever and skilled but a part of him would want to grab him by the neck and shove him against the wall and scream at him.  ** _Why are you always messing up?!_**

And this Thomas he had no doubt had made even more mistakes than him if he was older. Because Thomas knew that even though he was aware of how he ruined everything he knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t stop. Not even seeing what he’d turn into he wouldn’t be able to stop. 

He wanted to fuck all the hate he felt for himself at times into him. 

But he’d promised to make this last. And he’d said that tonight, Thomas- older Thomas that is. Older Thomas who’d experienced worse than him, was lord. And so he would be.

“…but you’re the one who wanted this to last….” he said, drawing away from Thomas and getting back onto the floor again, on his knees. He pulled Thomas by the hips to the edge of the bed and with his hands spread his thighs apart wider, then spread his cheeks so he had a clear view of Thomas’s puckered and now twitching arsehole. 

He looked into Thomas’s eyes as he bent his face forward and ran his tongue against it in one slow stroke. He kept his eyecontact as he began to let his tongue slip inside, feeling it clench against him but letting his tongue roam and circle the rim of his ass. He grabbed Thomas’s thighs, fingers curling against his skin as he pulled him closer, french kissing him there and using his tongue to swirl inside and stretch him. 

When he heard Thomas’s whimpers begin to get more escalated, he pulled away sharply and stood up, walking across the room and poured himself a glass of scotch, rinsing his mouth with it. With his back turned he hoped his other self was in quite a state by now from his teasing. He was just getting started. 

 

**notfoul-barrow:**

Thomas wondered what might be going on in his younger counterpart’s mind. He imagined the other was angry with him, angry at this knowledge of his sad future — of a future that he was unsure that he  _could_  change. They always had a penchant for getting themselves into trouble and having a hard time getting out of it. He recalled that time with Isis—he’d have to mention that to the younger and hope he thinks of a better way to become a valet, because to this day he felt embarrassment over that. 

He pressed his fingers deeper inside, moaning loudly, all for the younger Thomas, to put on a show for him. He stared into those icy blue hues and moved his fingers away, smirking ever so slightly at being patronized in that way. Ever so snarky he was. Good thing he’d never lose that, even in his misery.

Thomas gasped at the feeling of being yanked forward, his legs spread out for the younger, and he groaned at the words— _you want this._

_You need this._

If only this man knew how right he was. Thomas felt regret, staring up at him with almost hateful eyes in a way as he mocked him, knowing that the other Thomas would feel the same if spoken to that way. But he was willing to give the older happiness, give him control, because he  _knew_  how much he needed it. In his older age, he could control the others as the Under-Butler, so he had some power. 

The whine he let out, the way he threw his head back as the other entered him barely, made him realized how sad it was to be the older Barrow. He never made these kind of noises before, never wanted to make himself seem to weak and desperate in bed, and yet here he was—pathetic. Ha. It was a wonder the other didn’t explode from this knowledge. And then, just like that, it was gone. “ _God_ ,” He said lowly, looking back up at him, sweat trickling down his temple. 

Oh this little snarky shit. He was afraid to know what would happen if he gave him full control, but… 

The minute the other was on his knees, Thomas knew what was coming, and he bit his lip hard in anticipation. He forced himself to keep eye contact just as those icy hues stared back at him, and he whined and almost found himself begging toward the end of it. He’d broken eye contact and was arching his back against the bed, an arm over his face, whimpers escaping him. It was warm and just fucking perfect of a feeling. He needed the other inside of him so very badly. He shook underneath him, bucking his hips once, pressing forward to get the tongue deeper… 

“Ahh—oh— _fuck—!”_

Younger Thomas pulled away, and the older tried to catch his breath, his throbbing member leaking from that little charade. He moved his hand away, staring up at him, watching him knock back the liquor. “I think—” He said, breathlessly, “You’re the who  _I_  should be calling milord…” He smiled weakly. 

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

Thomas took his time strolling back over and took a jar of petroleum jelly out of the nightstand cabinet, slowly slicking his fingers with it, then rubbing it liberally on his aching member as he walked back to the Thomas he’d left panting on the bed. He again stuck three now coated fingers inside him, thrusting at a leisurely pace. He saw cum leaking from the other’s tip and his face twisted into a wicked smirk.

“So close, already? That won’t do at all.” he murmured, wrapping his other hand around the base of the other’s cock and squeezing tight, cutting off the blood flow. He leaned down and ran the tip of his tongue down the slit of the man’s head, knowing he couldn’t cum now even if he wanted to.

He scoffed at being called milord. If there was anyone in the world he didn’t mind bowing and scraping to it was himself. Even if he regretted things he did, even if he wondered what the bloody hell was wrong with him at times, he thought highly of himself. Because he’d still survived, hadn’t he? And he was stronger than the rest. That was the thing that made him most nervous about seeing his older self. He’d clearly surivived and he was sure that in the prescence of others this Thomas could still maintain that stony gaze, still call up a contemptuous sneer on command, but in his eyes the flicker of loneliness was more present than it had ever been. And here with his younger self he was letting himself go to pieces over some heavy petting. He liked seeing it the way he liked making any other man succumb to pleasure in the bedroom but with himself it was different. And when Thomas was trying to make it more intimate than just a rough fuck he almost felt sickened. That he’d let that part of him show.

 _How could you betray me like that? How could you betray **us**  like that? If you let yourself feel lonely **they win** , you bloody idiot!_ he kept thinking.

So he’d call him milord and he’d give him the best night he’d had in at least a while but he wasn’t going to go easy on him neither.  _Maybe I can fuck some sense into you_  he thought with bitter humour.

But part of him also felt that loneliness. That aching in his chest that he buried with snide remarks and a nearly manic ambition. And he was fighting back his own urge to take the other Thomas’s face in his hands and tell him  _If I’m here you don’t have to feel lonely anymore. And it’ll be just the two of us._  ‘Cause that’s what it had always been. Just Thomas. Thomas Barrow against the world.

He shook his head imperceptibly, wiping those thoughts clean from his mind. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself- not even infront of himself. Especially not infront of himself.

No, if anything he was going to make a fool of this Thomas. Have him pleading and overwhelmed. And then at the end he could say ‘You’re a fool, milord. And for all your hardships and wisdom with age I’m better than you. And you should have tried harder to be more like me. You shouldn’t have let anyone break your heart.’  

“I’m not a gentleman. Neither are you. But if I’m going to call you milord you could atleast try to remember your manners,  _sir_  Barrow,” he said with mock reproach.

He smiled crookedly at him, his eyes icy but his tone casual, “I haven’t heard a single ‘thank you, Barrow’ or ‘please, Thomas’ yet. And here I’ve been trying to be the perfect servant.”

He shoved his fingers as deep as they could go with a quick thrust into the other. “I’m sure a little politeness wouldn’t go amiss.”

Oh the arrogance of youth.

“Now…” he continued, drawing his fingers out slowly and pressing his cock against where they’d been. In the same clipped and proper tone he’d use if he’d just been asking the earl of grantham which cufflinks he wanted set out he said, “… Would you like me to fuck you, milord?” 

 

**notfoul-barrow:**

_Christ_ , he thought as the fingers pressed inside of him, groaning at being stretched so far after a long time. He’d forgotten the stamina he once had, being able to withstand even the most power-hungry aristocrat in bed. Now look at him, whining under himself, so close to begging—but he couldn’t beg, not yet. He couldn’t let this Thomas know how weak he would become, though he was quite certain the other man knew by now by his new treatment of him.  _“Ah_.” He grabbed at the blanket next to him, turning his face away.

And then that iron-like grip was applied around the base of his penis. Thomas arched his back, some strangled noise escaping him as he desperately thrust upward to no avail. That little  _shit._ He wondered how many people thought of him that way in those days, considering this had to be the third or fourth time it’d come across his mind. He moaned helplessly as the other’s tongue flickered against his slit and squeezed the sheets so tightly that his knuckles started turning white. His legs squirmed underneath the other. 

It was funny; he had forgotten this side of him, this vindictive ’I’m going to teach you a lesson’ side that always needed to fuck things up. The last time he’d used it was when he was trying to sabotage Alfred, because the lad was moving way too quickly for Thomas’ liking up his ranks, while it took Thomas nearly eight years to become a  _fucking_  valet. This side of him was so angry at the world, at what it had turned him into.

And after Jimmy, it seemed to have disappeared completely. No. Perhaps not after Jimmy—after what O’Brien done. He had lost that battle, and ever since he hadn’t started any new ones for fear of losing so badly again. Only by sheer luck (and that fucking Bates) he had managed to get out of that one. He didn’t want anymore close encounters, so he had mellowed out. How funny it was, indeed. 

“Aah— _ahhh_ —oh!” His face was red, almost as red as his dick was starting to become due to the lose of circulation. The pressure was building, and those fingers were hitting  _that_  spot, the one that was making Thomas absolutely see stars. He couldn’t concentrate on much else anymore instead of becoming but a whining bag of flesh, clawing at the blanket, moving his head from side to side. 

And then he listened. He opened his eyes and stared at him, a stray tear trickling down his cheek from the denial of orgasm. Thomas opened his mouth, trying to retort something— _anything_. But before he could, those fingers had gone in all the way, causing him to exhale a shout, thrusting his hips upward. 

“Y-You — ” Thomas gasped, “You  _are,_  Barrow.” He finally managed, inhaling sharp breaths through his nose. Ugh, he had been such a dirty bastard in his youth. No wonder why the aristocrats threw themselves at him.  ” _Mm—”_ He moaned at the return of the other’s cock. 

He would beg. The other had won. Damn it; he had lost his touch. 

 _“Please_ , Thomas.” He said through pants breathlessly, staring up at him with a little reproach. Being treated in such a way was almost degrading, especially from  _himself_ , but he was hopeless and needed this—needed it so  _fucking_  badly, so he would beg and he would take it. Because all he had now was himself.

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

Just hearing the word “please” even if from his own lips made a dark lust twist in his stomach and he couldn’t wipe the satisfied grin from his face. Despite how much he talked down to others and tried to bully people he was never the one being begged, always the one to be doing the begging. And now to be in the position of power it felt so good he was almost drunk with it.

 

“Please what, milord?” he asked, but his breath was coming out raggedly now, “Please fuck you…?”

His own cock was spilling onto the sheets and he was biting down on his lower lip to keep some semblance of control. He’d been planning to tease Thomas more but he couldn’t help himself anymore. He leaned forward on one arm so he was hovering above Thomas and slid his cock inside him.

“Bloody hell” the sharply exhaled omission came out devoid of the clipped mock politeness he’d been using before- the voice he reserved for being ‘upstairs’ -now it was thick with his accent and arousal.

He closed his eyes, his back arching as he began to pull out only to get sucked back in by Thomas’s tight warmth.

I’m the best fuck I’ve ever had he thought to himself and almost laughed out loud- probably would’ve too if he wasn’t so scared that if he opened his mouth at all an embarassing moan might slip out.

He exhaled, gaining some semblance of restraint, enough to open his eyes and look into his own face, below him.

“Good, milord?” he asked, voice rough and smug as can be. “worth begging for?”

His hand which was still tightly gripped around the other’s cock loosened slightly, enough for two of his fingers to start stroking his tight balls slowly. He continued to thrust into his backside with forceful, deliberate jerks, each time he buried himself completely, feeling his stomach muscles clench, just barely able to contain his orgasm.

“Would you beg me to let you cum, I wonder…?”

He was so close himself. He leaned over the other, bringing his tongue to his nipple and swirling around it once before sucking it hard, pulling at it with his lips until he knew there’d be a mark the next morning. 

 

**notfoul-barrow:**

“God,  _fuck you_ , Thomas,” The older gasped as the other mocked him so. He didn’t need this belittling, even though he had given the other the control. He wondered where the romantic had gone—probably buried too deep inside of him, afraid of people like Philip. Oh, it would come back with such a vengeance when he saw Edward Courtenay. If only he could watch his attitude change, if only he could see that haunted look in his eyes brightened as the other man touched his knee…

But he was snapped out his thoughts when the younger slid inside of him, making him groan. In spite of all the preparation, he still needed to adjust to his own cock. Was it strange that he felt it was much bigger than he realized? Then again, you never really knew until you had it inside of you… Wait. No. What? He needed to stop thinking such foolishness. 

He heard the younger’s slip of tongue, that casual accent flooding his ears, making this feel even more surreal that it was. His head was tilted up, mouth agape, one hand reaching to grasp the other behind the neck tightly. He made some type of whining noise when Thomas pulled back and then thrust inside again, clawing at the other man’s skin, his erection throbbing in his hand. 

Thomas stared up at him with begging eyes, breathing so heavily that he couldn’t even speak.  _“Mm—_ ,” He squeezed his eyes shut as the grip loosened ever so slightly and those long fingers brushed against his balls. He bucked his hips down, trying to meet the other’s rough thrusts.

When the other voiced  _that_ , Thomas made a promise that he wouldn’t—oh he  _couldn’t_  but fuck he had to! He was absolutely losing his mind, dragging his nails down the other’s back roughly, surprisingly trying to mark him. He hissed when the other sucked on his nipple, “ _Ah—aaah.”_ That sensation was going straight down to his cock. He needed it, god, he felt like he was going to explode if this continued any longer. His legs writhed underneath him. 

 _“Fuck_ —please, Thomas—” His eyes were closed again, brows furrowed in concentration,  _“Please_ let me come, Barrow—!” He hated himself for that, but jesus  _fuck_  damn it all. 

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

There was nothing romantic about it. They were rutting like animals. And like an animal, Thomas wanted nothing more than to establish his dominance over his other self. Which each harsh thrust he thought _I’m better than you. I’m better than anyone. I’m not going to turn out like you. I’m not going to be lonely. Alone, maybe. But not lonely._

He could feel his own cock stretching the other man out everytime he went a little deeper, his thighs slapping against Thomas’s arse. The groan in the back of his throat turned into more of a growl and he used the hand not on the other man’s cock to grab Thomas by the hair. His fingers twisted in the black, pomade-drenched locks. He’d decided to grow his hair out longer over time it seemed. Older Thomas’s hair was parted differently too. It made him look more mature. Not that he needed anything to look more mature. His face already was more tired and slightly more filled out than young Thomas’s was. Pieces of the older man’s bangs had fallen out of their neat place and bounced slightly against his forehead with every shove of their bodies. He liked that. He didn’t want him to be neat and held together. He wanted him to be a mess. The way his eyes looked when he’d tried to hold his younger self close to him. He wanted him to be as pathetic and desperate as Thomas knew he was- as Thomas sometimes felt he, himself, even in his present state was but would never show.

 He’d really thought this would be different than other men? It would never be different. Nothing would ever be different. Not even between the two of them. The world wouldn’t be different so what was the point? The world was always going to be cruel.  _So you have to be crueler._

He pulled Thomas’s head back by the hair and bit his shoulder as his hips moved in shorter, rougher, thrusts.

“Damn…” he hissed against the other’s shoulder. He was at his limit. He knew as soon as he let go of his cock they’d both be spent so as he buried himself completely in Thomas a final time he let go of his chokehold on his dick and came, gritting his teeth and his whole body tensing in one instant. 

**notfoul-barrow:**

Any coherent thought escaped him as the other kept that chokehold and thrusted into him so animalistically. He was left to whimper and moan and just hold on for dear life, trying to feel something other than this other’s wish of dominance over him.  _”_ Agh!” He grunted when he felt the hand in his hair. He twisted in the other’s grip, needing release, god begging for it with little moans and body movements.

He the ground his teeth together at the sudden sharp pain of his hair being pulled hard enough to lift up his chin, as well as the bite in his shoulders. “Fuck!” All that accompanied by the thrusts was making him thrust his hips upward, silently begging

And when the other came and released him, Thomas didn’t come. He groaned loudly at the feeling of the other man’s seed inside of him and then in frustration as his cock did not burst like he thought it would. He slid his hand in between them, trying to grab hold and bring himself off, needing it desperately. “Oh  _God—”_

**crocodilepatronus:**

Thomas was riding the high of his orgasm as he slumped against himself, his hand going limp in the other’s hair.

He was still feeling the euphoria of it as he slipped out of himself, still stiff enough to go again, from Thomas’s now dripping hole but then he noticed he could still feel his- older Thomas’s- erection pressing hard as ever against his stomach and he realized- the other man hadn’t come.

Panic and insecurity flooded over him like a bucket of ice water.  _I couldn’t even get meself off. Here I was thinking how desperate he was but he’s lasted longer than me and now I’m the one who looks the fool._

His thoughts were broken by the other’s hands attempting to grab at his own cock. Thomas slapped them away instinctively, still trying to collect himself, still frantically thinking  _what the hell have I done wrong this time?_

But as was his usual, it didn’t take long for the insecurity to turn into a bitter, simmering rage and he grabbed the other by the wrists.

“ **Don’t**.” he warned through gritted teeth and for a moment he knew the anger had broken the usual calm complacency on his face. He took a breath and let his brows unknit, let his lips fall into a flatline, neutral expression.

 _Have to think_. Whenever Thomas felt he’d been thrown over. Whenever he felt humiliated or put out… For a moment maybe he’d linger on it, feeling sorry for himself. But then he’d snap out of it. And then the only thought he’d  ** _allow_**  to go through his mind was  _how do I beat them?_

That’s how it had always been. William wants to be first footman?  _Insult him. Take his girl. Make him cry._  Bates takes his job out from under him?  _Humiliate him. Frame him. Destroy him._

And this Thomas wasn't any different. He'd decided that almost immediately when he'd looked at him that he wouldn't permit himself to feel any kinship towards this man even if they shared the same past, the same face... They were different. You're not like him. No one is like you. You're alone and you'll do well not to forget it. 

This Thomas was just another person, like every other in the world, elligible to be his enemy.

_How am I going to turn this around and come out on top?_

That’s what it was always about. He couldn’t picture a world where anything could be more important.

His eyes lingered down to the other man’s painfully swollen member and he let the corners of his mouth twitch upward. “I’ll take care of that for you…”

With one hand still holding the other man’s wrists he found where he’d tossed his bowtie aside on the bed and dexterously used it to tie a loop around the base of the other man’s cock. “…. all in good time.”

He tugged it hard into a knot so it was firmly cutting off the circulation in Thomas’s cock and he sneered at the veritable anguish in the moan it drew from him. “You were the one who said you wanted to ‘make this last’” he whispered sinisterly with his mouth almost pressed to the other’s ear.

He unclipped the braces from his waist (he was still wearing trousers- he considered that a point in his favor) and then with one hand still holding Thomas’s left wrist, flipped him over onto his belly. It had been easy to do. The other man was only a bit larger than he and he hadn’t been expecting it. He straddled his backside, his half-hard member sliding against the cleft of his ass as he bent over him and pulled the other’s arms behind his back. He nearly chuckled to himself imagining how painful it was to be that hard and lying on your stomach.  

“You remember when the Duke tied us up, don’t you…?” Thomas himself didn’t think he’d ever forget.

He leaned down, whispering in his ear once more, “We came twice before he even put it inside.” He kissed Thomas’s neck roughly, letting his teeth scrape against the skin. “Do you remember thinking ‘God, I’d like to try being the one in charge’…?”

He sat up, straddling the other like a pony and looped the braces into a deft knot around Thomas’s wrists.

“You said you’d pleasure me tonight. Well you’re going to bring me plenty of pleasure, I promise you that.”

The feeling (for it was an incoherent feeling really more than a voice) was throbbing in his head, in his very veins, the one that took over whenever he was usurped, the one that made him do terrible things to achieve his ends.  _Make him pay make him pay make him pay_ **  
**

**notfoul-barrow:**

The noise of disapproval Thomas made upon being slapped was high-pitched and uncharacteristic of him, but  _come on_. He ground his teeth together, wondering why he hadn’t just overpowered the little shit and came all over his face, because that’s what this little prick deserved. But did he really want to put Thomas in his place, especially after all of the times others had done so? Reminding him that he was lower than himself, but what good would that do? But he  _was_  achingly hard. 

“Thomas—” He hissed as the other grabbed his wrists tightly. Though he was silenced by the other’s command. He could read that emotion on the other’s face; he was absolutely livid, and the older could not figure out why. Because he hadn’t gotten off? Did he think he wasn’t good enough? He knew it wouldn’t have taken him much to get off—

All coherent thought ceased once again as those lips curved into a devious smirk and barely with any time to react, the bowtie was wrapped around his dick and—he almost  _squealed_ at the feeling. Anguish laced in his tone, and he bucked his hips up pleadingly. “T-Thomas,” He warned, though his eyes were wide upon the other’s devilish whisper. He had really been that vindictive ten years ago. He had planned to blackmail his lover, of  _course_  he had been this vindictive. 

He meant to push the other away before he was flipped over, but he hadn’t collected himself in time and suddenly he was on his stomach. He tensed as his throbbing erection pressed into the mattress, “Oh  _fuck_ —” Pain coursed through his body laced with pleasure, and the extra weight of the other man on top of him didn’t help. He had been so distracted by that sensation that he didn’t realize the other had grabbed his wrists until a moment too late. 

“ _Thomas_ ,” He said again, struggling against him, and probably would have been able to push him off if this twitching cock wasn’t hindering him. With his hands behind his back, he let out a painful yell into the mattress  trembling under the man straddling him. Sweat trickled down his flushed face, and he moved his head up, breathing heavily, listening to his words.

Of course he’d remembered all these years later. Philip had been a power hungry control freak, but Thomas hadn’t cared, too blindly in love and new to that sort of playing. But there had been times when he’d thought—

_God, I’d like to be the one in charge._

He honestly laughed at his own misfortune here as the other kissed his neck, knowing he put himself in this situation. Was he that pathetic that he couldn’t get control over someone younger than him, much more immature in thought? He really had weakened. Thomas remembered being held back by those bastards at the fair, and this was almost no different. He ground his teeth together, hissing as the bracers tightened against his wrists. 

Thomas panted, pulling against his restraints, cursing himself. “Oh… yes?” He asked, the pain keeping his breaths labored. “Is that—so?” He wondered if he had snapped back then. Sometimes it was funny that he couldn’t remember everything, having been so angry that it was a blur—like the time he lost all of his money on that  _shit_  from the black market. He supposed he  _was_  capable of that kind of anger, and this didn’t surprise him. 

They were power hungry. This was no more than an extension of that. And now he would see first hand how it was to be on the receiving end of his own outrage.

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

“Yeh,” he said, his accent becoming thicker, more ‘middle-class’ once again as it was laced with lust. He was slowly riding the other’s backside, his member sliding against the slick cleft of his arse, grinding him harder into the bed with his weight with every movement.

 “I said you could have your way with me tonight but…” he shrugged though he knew the gesture was lost on Thomas who was facedown, “…. I’ve changed me mind.” he said with some cheer.

He’d been getting more frustrated with this Thomas since he first saw him. It wasn’t any one thing he’d done. It was more of what he made him feel. A spark of barely hope. More of a compulsive desire. _You’re just like me. You know what I’ve done but you can’t judge me because it’s all the things you’ve done. And I never have to worry about you betraying me like all the rest._  It had been urge to let himself go around this man who was himself. But then he’d realized how stupid that was almost immediately. How if there was anyone in the world he couldn’t trust it was himself. Without even complicating matters into there being two Thomases, how many times had he messed things up for himself? Been his own downfall? Betrayed his best interests and ended up with nothing. No,  **he was his own worst enemy**.

Older Thomas may not have really been at liberty to judge him as he’d already made all his past mistakes but younger Thomas saw no problem in judging the things he hadn’t done yet.

He placed his hand almost tenderly at the center of the other’s back. It felt warm. His skin was soft. And it felt so familiar…. he raked his fingernails down it, leaving light pink marks.

“’Cause there’s really no reason for me to be paying any respect to you…” He grabbed the other man’s necktie. It wasn’t a bowtie. His was long and black and silken. He put it around Thomas’s face, then pulled it tight gagging him with it, and tied it behind his head. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to hear his own voice if it was going to come out high pitched and whining.

He grabbed him by his hip, turning him onto his back then straddling him again. He admired how the other’s cock was throbbing and standing straight up. He ghosted his fingers along it’s length.

“You’re washed up….” he said- his voice soft, gentle even…

He looked into his eyes. He’d always thought he had pretty eyes and he’d been told by others how lovely they were. But he hated how reflective they could be of his emotions. Hated that they betrayed all the feelings he wanted to keep secret.

“…a coward…” he continued in the same tone, touching his hand to the other’s gloved palm.

 _I don’t mean it. You’re not a coward. I wouldn’t want to take back what you did to our hand, not in a million years. I don’t know how you even lasted a day there. You’re so brave and I’m terrified. Terrified I’ll never be that brave._  Stupid thoughts ran through his head. The kind he ignored.

“….and a fool.” his own words tasted bitter in his mouth. It wasn’t an unusual feeling. But he’d show no regret for saying them.

He leaned forward so that the other’s cock bent against his stomach.

“…and I’m never going to let myself turn into you.” he breathed. 

 

**notfoul-barrow:**

As the younger rocked into him, Thomas gasped lowly in pain each time his erection pressed into the mattress. He had no way to relieve this, not with his hands behind him like this. God, this was some sort of sick punishment for all the shit he’d put people through in his life. His younger self was playing with him like a toy, and he knew he deserved this. It was funny, but he knew this was punishment for all the things he’d done when he  _was_  the younger man before him, knowing he had somewhat redeemed himself in his present. 

He pressed his face to the side, looking at him, watching him shrug like that. His wrists tensed in their restraints and he growled, frustrated with himself. Why had he been so stupid to let the other one have the control? It had all been fun and games at first, but they were both too fucked up to keep that going on, weren’t they? Then again this  _still_  was a game to the younger, who was basking in the glow of this dominance, one he thought he would know when he came back from the war—until Clarkson would kick him back in his place, and then Carson. Sure, he’d be barking orders, but with someone giving him those orders to bark. Even now he was doing the same thing as under-butler. “Have you? I hadn’t guessed.” He spat out in a strained voice, back arching as his whole body shook underneath the younger. 

Thomas closed his eyes at the feeling of the other’s hand on his back, trying to relax into the touch. All these sorts of touches Thomas would grow to miss and he would sleep with men in London whenever he went with Lord Grantham when he was a valet, but as under-butler he was stuck because they knew him in Ripon and Thirsk, so he’d been ‘celibate’ since he’d gotten the job. And thinking of Jimmy, because it was hard not to think about him, but it was getting easier and he knew he was close to getting over him. He sighed, trying to ignore the pain for just a moment until the other raked his nails down his back. 

He snorted as the younger Thomas said he had nothing to respect him for. He was still  _fucking_  alive, wasn’t he? He’d shown his younger self he’d made it alive through the trenches when he hadn’t even wanted to go in the first place. He’d managed to survive, and even though he had made so many mistakes—-

His eyes opened at the feeling of silk in his mouth. Thomas had taken lessons from Philip, hadn’t he? He bit down on the material, letting out a low groan as the other tied it tightly around his head, rendering him speechless. In fact, he laughed even harder at his gag. So many times he had wished for this other one to shut up—and so had others wished  _he_  to be silent. And so he was. 

A sigh of relief exhaled his nose as he was turned around. Thomas stared up at himself, reading the emotions on his face like an open book. “Mm,” His head arched up a little bit, a soft but muffled moan escaping him as the other barely touched him. 

The irony of his words verses his actions struck a cord within the older. Was he trying to be callous or was he being sympathetic?  _Washed up…_  He inhaled a sharp breath through his nose.  _Coward…_  He felt the hand brush against his glove, his arms uncomfortably showing just under his bum. He was a coward from the war. Matthew and William had been heroes, so had Jimmy and Alfred. And yet he couldn’t handle it, too scared to even breathe some days. His medical partner had been shot dead right in front of him. They made him go out into the battlefield without a  _fucking_  weapon. Of course he was terrified. He was an alive coward… He had protected himself… who cared about being a hero? Certainly not he.

_Fool._

That, surprisingly enough, was what got him, because it was so  _true._  He had been such a fool, letting O’Brien twist his thoughts, making him fall even more in love with that stupid blond who sent him mixed signals, who made him believe that someone  _could_  show interest in him still. He was a fool to go into his room and kiss him, thinking that he felt the same. It was a foolish risk, and it nearly cost him his job, nearly sent him out into the streets—

His nostrils flared slightly as his eyes became glassy with tears, a hatred in them as he stared at his younger self. Thomas breathed heavily, trying to keep his emotions under control, squeezing his eyes shut as the other leaned forward, making his throbbing dick press into his stomach. He groaned, a stray tear trickling down his cheek—this time  _from_  emotion and not from a physical reaction. 

_I’m never going to let myself turn into you._

Was it better then to be alone? To be always on guard. To trust that  _bitch_  and let her lead you astray, still wrapped up in her own little world when he was about to learn about the troubles of the world and not fucking care whether Bates stays or goes. To always look at everyone as though they hate you, but never knowing that their kindness may be genuine. Was it better than to try and do things by yourself, and only find yourself face first in a pile of mud trying to save a dog that you hadn’t meant to lose in the first place because of your  _foolish_ plans. Even though he was foolish to save Jimmy, he had finally gotten a true friend. He was civil with his colleagues, and he was respected amongst them. He even had a friend in Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore—even with Daisy. He may have felt lonely, but the circumstances were so different now. No one hated him for being gay. Even Carson—stupid fucking Carson—had been sympathetic toward his situation at the time. He even kept trusting Thomas with more and more duties, perhaps finding himself ready to hand down the torch and knew Thomas was ready to take it. 

He tried to jerk forward, to show him how pathetic he really  _wasn’t,_ but in this situation he was at a loss, because it only resulted in his own pain from the way his hard member pressed against the other’s stomach. Instead, he settled for snarling and heavy breathing. This Thomas would learn. 

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

He’d been watching the other’s face as he’d insulted him. How hatred and then sadness had flared up in his eyes at the word “fool”. So he knew he was. He hoped he knew that his younger self was smarter than him. No, better than him in every way. Yet to make the worst of his life’s mistakes. Yet to go soft under the beatings the world dished out to him.

 

He reassured himself in his mind that now that he knew what he would turn out like he’d never make the same mistakes. He wouldn’t allow himself too.

After Philip Thomas had thought he might try a life of romantic cellibacy like some of the others downstairs. Romantic being the key word. He knew he’d go mad if he vowed to never have sex again (atleast for now- he was still a young man). 

And there wasn’t any lover in older Thomas’s life obviously. He could’ve guessed that straight away. But surely even in service and trying to keep his ways a secret he could’ve found someone to fuck on the side? Someone to spend the night with even if they never spoke, who would keep that clawing feeling of loneliness from ripping apart his chest. But he knew he hadn’t even that because older Thomas looked like someone who hadn’t been touched in too long and it looked like it was eating him up from the inside out.

And he’d had his heart broken. That was a bit terrifying. To look at your future self and know instinctively what maybe no one else in the world could know just from looking at them but that you did. _In the future I’m going to have my heart broken_. That was probably the most foolish thing of all. He wondered who’d done it. Broken  **their**  heart. A nobleman like the duke? Someone downstairs? What a bloody fool. Letting someone get inside his head like that. After Philip, how stupid did you have to be to even let yourself think the words ‘I love you’? Young Thomas had resolved not to let anyone toy with him like that ever again. He’d have sex but that was it, no more feelings (about anything if he could help it). Admittedly he’d thought this resolution might not last too long (maybe a week):  _I’ll find someone else with a handsome face and a wit who will make me do something stupid over them and again I’ll be betrayed_. But now that he’d seen that it really had happened like that for older Thomas he knew he’d remember not to let his heart get the better of him.  

His dick wasn’t hard enough to have another go at Thomas. So he grabbed the jar of lubricant out off the bed again and began to slide his fingers in and out of his own arse, straddling Thomas again so their shafts rubbed against eachother- identical save for one was ready to burst from hardness and the other barely had an erection. He jerked his hips at an uneasy rhythm matching the thrusts of his own fingers stretching himself out and moaned lewdly, hoping that it was torture for the other to watch him and not be able to do a thing.

“Were you in love with someone… after Philip?” he asked, continuing his ministrations, his words coming out in halting gasps, “I can tell you were of course.” he went on, knowing the other couldn’t respond even if he wanted to.

He smirked. “Did he break your heart, you silly fool? Did he reject you?” He used the other hand to hold both their cocks together, rubbing them roughly against eachother. “Can’t say I’m surprised. We’re not great company, are we?” his tone was bitter, “but we’re a damn good lay…” 

 

notfoul-barrow:

Thomas watched as the younger slicked up his fingers and began to stretch himself. If he had the mobility of his arms, he’d pushed the other down and fuck him so roughly it’d made him scream. That’s how angry he was with his other self. No wonder why no one liked him back then! It was all beginning to make sense—this mirror into his past, treating him like the dirt he was—

No, Thomas. He didn’t need to think of himself that way. Not anymore. He let out pitiful moans as the other’s half-hard dick met his own, the mere touch sending him off the edge. He bucked his hips upward, the need to cum so strong that it sent tingles down his lower body. He struggled with his own body weight and the bracers in attempt to free his wrists, but to no avail. He was trapped. 

The first question made him roll his eyes. It was obvious wasn’t it?

Yes. Twice. Twice he had fallen in love since Philip. The first had been a soldier during the war, after his blighty, when he returned to Downton to work in the hospital (thanks to O’Brien’s meddling). Edward Courtenay, who was blind and beautiful and so  _fucking_  tragic, and all he wanted to do was hug him and hide him away from the cruel world and whisper sweet nothings in his ear until he felt self-worth again. He tried; he really tried to make Edward’s life better, and he believed (and this may have been the romantic in him) that the reason the soldier had taken his life was because they wouldn’t be together. 

The second was Jimmy. Young and stupid and ambitious Jimmy with his stupid hair and cunning smile. The funny thing was that Jimmy reminded him of himself back then, but perhaps less cruel.  _And for Jimmy, you will become absolutely infatuated and do your dumbest things yet. You will read too into the signs that aren’t there and_ she  _will you make you think—for just a moment—that someone can actually fall in love with you_. 

_“But what about all there is between us?”_

_“There’s nothing between us except my fists if you don’t get out!”_

Was it pathetic of him to still have nightmares about that day, in spite of their good standing? He didn’t want to think about it, truly. But this younger son of a bitch version of himself was bringing it all back. 

_“Did he break your heart, you silly fool? Did he reject you?”_

_Yes,_  Thomas thought.  _And he’ll break yours, too. And then he’ll try to take everything from you, and you will still be in love, and you will still put your life on the line for him because_ you  _are fucking stupid._

Thomas moaned in pain, shaking his head as the other grabbed onto his dick, rubbing theirs together roughly. His muffled noises only grew louder, and he bucked his hips up again helplessly, writhing underneath him. “Mmmrm!” And accompanied by his words, he wanted to laugh—that their mindset still stayed the same in a way after all these years. That they were nothing but a good lay. Terrible company. But they’ll have friends in the future. They had Sybil and Edward.

“Rmmmrm!” Thomas slammed his head back against the mattress helplessly. If only the younger knew what kind of torture he was putting him through. “Pmmrsee!”  _Please,_   _oh God — PLEASE. I need it. Fuck, I need it._

**crocodilepatronus:**

Thomas was enjoying this. He was enjoying seeing himself in pain and he vaguely wondered at how sick that was.  _But I deserve it, don’t I?_  he thought, frowning.

 

Thomas’s views on himself went between two extremes. At times he thought he was the most handsome and clever and greatest man to ever live and deserved to get everything he wanted. He was more prone to let people see the side of himself that felt that way.

But other times he felt great insecurity and self doubt. This wasn’t all the time. In fact it was very infrequent. Mostly he felt that the world was at fault and that he was only adapting to survive it. But he had doubts occasionally- that even if he knew his ways weren’t disgusting or sinful that the fact everyone else thought they were should matter to him. That maybe there was a reason that other people must not think him deserving of the things he wanted for it felt like he never _really_  got what he wanted no matter what or who it was. Other times he doubted if his paranoia to keep anyone from getting close to him was really helping him. And he temporarily loathed himself everytime his intelligence failed him and his schemes were ruined. He constantly made conscience efforts to never let on, even to himself, that he had such insecurities.

In his mind he was consciously or unconsciously shoving all of the things he  _didn’t_  like about himself onto the other Thomas and taking out his frustrations on him.

He grinned crookedly at the other’s pathetic struggles and whimpers. There was sweat on the other man’s forehead. He gently wiped it away with his hand, stroking his hair back carefully.

“You need it, don’t you….?” he whispered in mock sympathy. He raised himself up on his knees, placing Thomas’s cock underneath his arse and slowly starting to lower himself, “Well, begging will get you everywhere.” he smirked.

“Who knows. I might even let you come after this.” he panted, feeling Thomas’s prick pushing against his entrance. He loved it. His own cock going inside him. It was making his own dick come to life again, hardening and he began to stroke it quickly as he finally seated himself, the other sheathed completely in his tightness. He hissed, closing his eyes and biting down on his lower lip as he began to rock gently.

God he was so full.

 _Everyone’s always said I’m full of myself. Now it’s true._  He thought, almost laughing aloud at the insanity of the situation. He began to roll his hips slowly, one hand twisting in the other man’s chest hair and the other hand wanking himself off.

“Bloody hell that’s good.” he said, throwing his head back, “Philip should’ve let me fuck him more often…” he panted “… ‘cause my cock is terrific.” he laughed, loosening up enough to start speeding up his pace. 

 

**notfoul-barrow:**

It was almost funny how malicious and yet gentle he could be. Thomas stared at him, panting open-mouth against his gag as the other brushed his hand over his forehead and moved his hair out of his face. It was juxtaposed with that crooked smile, and he knew he must have been manic at this point, lost in his own world. He wondered what was on his mind to make him this way, to make him so angry. He leaned into the touch ever so slightly, staring into his eyes with some sort of regret, even if he was still angry and in  _so much pain_. 

And just like that, the touch was gone.

Thomas hissed suddenly at the other kneeling over, having an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach at what was about to happen. 

_You need it, don’t you…?_

“Ymmm,” Thomas would beg. He really would. This was a pain like no other, straight down in his cock. Never in his life again did he want to feel something like this. “Mmn!” 

Thomas’ back arched all the way off the bed as he pressed against the tip of the younger’s. “ _Mmmrm!”_  His eyes rolled back at the feeling, and he trembled and writhed as the other pushed him deeper and deeper into his arse. The pressure was unbearable, squeezing his dick so tightly. He stopped breathing for a couple of seconds, eyes wide and brimming with tears. 

He choked out a dry sob as the younger pushed himself all the the way down. “Mmhmm!” He hit his head back several times against the bed now, knees raising up, toes curling at the sensation. There was whistling in his nose from how quickly he was breathing, and he swore to God he felt like he was going to die right then and there. He thrust his hips upward involuntarily as the other began to rock. It was as if that was going to give him relief, but he knew it wasn’t. 

“Pmmrm!! Pmmmrm! Mmm!” His whimpers and groans had loudened, his back barely touching the bed again.  _Please please please please please please_ please —

There really wasn’t much else on his mind at this point, too far lost in the feelings. He heard some talking about him, but he hadn’t cared what Thomas said right. And as the other picked up speed, he shouted against the gag, sweat coating his body, eyes squeezing so very tightly shut, his whole body so tense.

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

Those muffled moans sounded so familiar. He’d made them himself once. With a different man. On a different night.  _Feels good_  he thought  _feels good to be the one making someone else moan._

 

He closed his eyes and could almost feel Phillip’s hot breath on his neck again like it had been that summer.  _“You sound so pretty, Thomas. So pretty when you’re begging for my cock.”_  the other man had whispered to him then.  _“I want to hear you scream.”_  And then the riding crop had come down between his shoulder blades.

He shivered, remembering it. He wouldn’t deny getting off on it. But it had stung the next morning. He wished he had a riding crop now… but Thomas was in enough pain as it was. He didn’t want to break himself.

He was establishing a rhythm of elevating his hips to the point where Thomas’s dick was almost entirely out of him, pausing for a split second, and then quickly lowering himself back down until the other was balls deep in his arse again. Each time he came down it felt even deeper than the time before and for brief moments he could feel the older Thomas’s twitching, swollen head jab against his prostate and it was enough to make him gasp. He squeezed a hand around his own member and felt pre-cum dripping down his fingers.  

The other was bucking his hips wildly beneath him, meeting his every movement with equal force. Even with his arms tied behind his back he wasn’t just lying down and taking it.  _Good lord, what a talent._

But there were tears in his eyes and he looked like he was nearly ready to drop dead of a heart attack.

Thomas shook his head, laughing as dryly as he could manage between gasps and panting like a dog in heat. “You poor wretch.”

He let the one hand curled in the man’s chest hair up to run his thumb along his nipple in a rough circular massage.

“But I’m the one whose life you ruined.” he hissed, slamming down harder with his hips and clenching himself as tight as he could with a stifled grunt.

He knew the Thomas below him was himself truly. He knew it was just like him to be stupid and to be emotional and a coward and a fool. But he didn’t want to admit that in this moment. He just wanted to feel better about himself. Wanted to feel that his heartbreaks and his failures and mistakes were someone else’s fault but his own. That they were his fault but also not.

God, how was it that older Thomas was even still in service? Even if he had a higher position, younger Thomas had alwas hoped that someday he’d escape the life of bowing and scraping regardless of how good at it he might be. He wanted to be his own master, his own boss. What had happened to that?

He’d hoped that if he were to meet an older version of himself he’d been even more smug and cold than he was now. Maybe it was strange to think that but it’s how he felt. He hoped that if he kept doing things he knew were wrong at every opportunity and kept pushing people away with every snide comment that soon one day he wouldn’t have to feel a thing anymore and then he’d never be betrayed by his emotions. He’d never cry over wicked men like the duke. Or feel so angry at Bates that he’d come up with some harebrained scheme to throw him over that if he only thought about it for a minute would realize would only come back on him. He’d be perfect if he could control his own stupid feelings. But he had them and he couldn’t stop them even when they were threatening to destroy him. He felt  **so** deeply…

But older Thomas  _wasn’t_  invincible and all powerful like he’d hoped. Not even close. And he resented it.

A malicious grin graced his features as he lifted himself up almost entirely off Thomas once more and staying there. He placed his palm in the center of the other’s abdomen, holding him down and keeping him from thrusting from underneath him.

“I’ll let you cum…” he said breathlessly, letting go of his own cock so he had a free hand to play casually with the bowtie around the other’s. “But first… you have to do something for me.”

 

**notfoul-barrow:**

God, he knew he’d felt this way before—not particularly  _this_ , but it was a familiar feeling, being totally and utterly helpless against a partner in bed. The first person that came to mind was Philip, and he tried to think back to that one summer of happiness he’d had all those years ago. He remembered, then, the feeling of a riding crop against his back—the begging and the screaming and  _lord he had came twice before the man even entered him_. Was this similar in situation? Absolutely. Thomas had been right when he said this Thomas was taking lessons from Philip. 

Every time the other lifted off him and slammed back down, he cried out. “Mrm! Mm! Mmrmrm!” And he writhed and struggled, digging the bracers into his wrists, feeling a burning sensation in them. Every time he squeezed his eyes closed, stray tears trickled down his cheeks. 

_You poor wretch._

“Fmmk mmrr!”  _Fuck you_. He didn’t need to be mocked. If he could get this revenge on his sniveling little basterd, he would. The anger had definitely set in now, even though he wasn’t as angry as he was in pain, as he was sad, as he was so  _fucking_ horny. But it was there, brewing. 

He gasped audibly when the other ran his thumb around his nipple. That sensation also went straight to his cock, and his nipples were also achingly hard. His whole body was full of stimulations, and his lower body was shaking so badly that he couldn’t even control himself anymore. 

_But I’m the one who’s life you ruined._

He screamed. God, he screamed. It was muffled but loud, and he shook his head and tried to move away and couldn’t and  _God_  he was seeing stars and some more tears trickled down his cheeks and this was  _so fucking cruel_. He didn’t ruin the younger’s life. They both ruined their own lives. They’d done everything bad consciously at the time. They knew what they were getting into. But when he was younger, he always tried to put the blame on someone else—when in reality it was always his own damn fault. Thomas was begging against his gag, words muffled but filled with anguish. 

“Pmmm! Pmmrm!” His head arched back, and he let out a low whine. Seriously, if he didn’t come soon, he thought he might die. What a way to go, but yet a fitting end to Thomas Barrow. He supposed he wouldn’t mind. It’d be better off dying that way than dying alone in a bed with no one to comfort you or  _care_ for that matter. “Tmmss!” 

The groan that escaped him was of defeat when the other placed his hand down on his abdomen, holding him in place. The shaking was even more violent at this point as he couldn’t move, his legs slightly kicking out at the feeling. He was seeing stars, beginning to feel lightheaded from the continued assault on his cock. 

He brought himself to look back into Thomas’ eyes as the other spoke to him, lips curled into a smirk that the older wanted to slap off his face. “Mmr?” He asked, hissing at the feeling of the other’s hand brushing against the bowtie. He had to  _do_  something? How—how could he do anything right now? But he nodded his head to the best of his abilties, little whimpers escaping his as the other kneeled above him, keeping himself just on the tip of the older’s cock. 

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

Thomas drew himself off of the older man completely, leaving him starving for the tightness, the warmth, and still unable to release. He lay down ontop of the other man and licked the tears from his face.

The taste was salty and electrifying. He could feel the other’s erection throbbing against his abdomen. His own chest and torso were a bit more toned than the older man’s- he could feel some softness beneath him. _You’ve gone soft in more ways than one, you stupid old man. Except your cock. That’s hard. And all my doing._

He was taking his sweet time telling Thomas what he had to do to earn his release. He wanted to savor this. He guided the other’s cock back into his arse again with his hand once more and began sliding his body up and down ontop of the other’s slowly.

 _You feel so good_  he thought as he chewed his lower lip, a hiss of pleasure escaping him at the friction of his own cock pressed between their bodies.  _But this time you’re going to cum before I do._  He dug his fingernails into Thomas’s shoulderblades.  _And then you’re going to make me cum a second time._

He chuckled when he heard the other trying to throw out muffled obsceneties at him.

“Don’t be ungrateful” he said smugly, “A pathetic, old sod like you should be happy to get to bed a handsome, young thing like me.”

He knew the other Thomas wasn’t that much older- only a few years. But he knew if he was starting to get older he’d feel sore about it. And worried about losing his looks and ending up alone. He knew he’d always be handsome. But a visiting lord or a man in a London nightclub would be less likely to even have a one night stand with someone already in their thirties, already worn down by the world. They wanted someone young and bold-faced. And those type of one-night passions were probably all he could hope for in terms of “romance”.  The idea that the older he got the less frequent they’d be vexed him. That was one of young Thomas’s greatest fears. That one day he’d be old and wrinkled and still working downstairs under Carson who would never fucking die and then no one would want to touch him, kiss him, be with him at all. It’s not like anyone would ever like Thomas for his  _personality_. So surely it scared older Thomas too. Maybe that’s why he’d gone so sappy- hoping to gain sympathy and some affection. So he rubbed salt in the wound by calling him old and pathetic even if he knew it weren’t altogether true.

That was a nice thing about trying to torture yourself. You already knew all your own weaknesses. Convenient, that.

 “Now I don’t want to hear a sound out of you until I tell you what to say….”

He ran his finger underneath the tie in the other’s mouth teasingly, half expecting Thomas to bite him. To avoid him doing so he held his jaw shut with his other hand as he pulled the tie from his teeth.

He smiled breathlessly. _I have the nicest lips_  he thought. They were red and swollen from struggling against the gag.

“All you have to do…” he kissed the other’s cheek “before I let you cum…” he ghosted his lips over the man’s ear, “… is apologize.”

He smirked, pulling his face away so he could see Thomas’s expression. “I want you to apologize- without making any stupid excuses- for ruining my life.” 

 

**notfoul-barrow:**

Thomas moaned again as the younger pulled away from him. The warmth was gone, and he suddenly wanted it back, surprisingly enough, even though it was  _so_ painful on his own cock, it had been nice to be inside the other. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want to kiss that smirk right off the other’s face. He was torn between emotions. Maybe he was developing some sort of Stockholm syndrome with himself. He didn’t know.

“Mm,” He glared as the other licked his tears away, but the feeling of the tongue against his skin was nice. It had been a long time since anything this erotic occurred to him. _“Ahh_ -mm..” He gasped and groaned as his cock slid back into the other’s arse, bucking his hips up to the best of his abilities. He stared into the other’s eyes, seeing the maliciousness in them, and yet something else. He looked pensive in a way; he really wondered what was on his mind. 

He made such lascivious noises, the gasps and whines of the younger Thomas drowning out the own noises he made. Though he rolled his eyes as the other chuckled at him and said  _“Don’t be ungrateful. A pathetic, old sod like you should be happy to get to bed a handsome, young thing like me._ ” with that smug grin on his face. Thomas was so tempted to lift his leg and knee the son of a bitch. Alas, it would be too painful, and he had a feeling he would regret it instantaneously. He ground his teeth against the tie, making little grunts and whines as the other moved slowly against him. 

He was happy to get someone handsome, someone so beautiful and mischievous and absolutely evil. It was hot and it was frustrating, and he wanted to strange and fuck the other into oblivion. Alas, he couldn’t. Not in his current state. But he could imagine it: the other begging underneath him to cum, whining and whimpering and apologizing for his disrespectful words. Oh, revenge would be sweet should he be able to do it… 

Even if the other was right, continuously hitting into his weakness, making him feel so horribly about himself. His hands clenched into fists beneath him, and he made a sort of resentful noise as the other told him not to make a sound until he was told what to do for his release. He breathed heavily through his nose and then ran his tongue along the other’s finger before his mouth was closed. God, he felt like a humiliated dog. 

Thomas leaned into the kiss and arched his back a little bit at the whispering in his ear. Was that really all he needed to do? Ugh, it was so simple, so bloody simple—

But had he really ruined his life? Yes. Perhaps he had. Though—No.  _No._  He needed to cum. He would not fuck this up to. Thomas bit his lower lip, breathing harshly before glancing at him. His gaze showed how conflicted he was, but he soon spoke, his voice somewhat raspy from being gagged for a while, “I’m sorry,” He spat, speaking lowly in between pants, “I’m sorry for cocking up our lives.” 

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

For a moment his usual mask of smirks and sneers was broken by a genuine grin and he half-laughed, breathlessly at the other’s “apology”. A little more politeness wouldn’t have gone fucking amiss but he was close to his own limit too now so it would have to do.

 

“Good.” he said and with one hand undid the knot around the base of Thomas’s cock.

This time he made damn sure the other would cum. And that it would be incredible. Because to Thomas the ultimate- the ideal- was to not need anyone else but for other people to find  _him_  indispensable and to that end he had to  _satisfy_. So he ground his hips down against Thomas’s then raised himself up again, clenching as he did then repeated the process. He had one hand pressed against the man’s chest for support and the other twisted in the hair above the nape of his neck, pulling Thomas’s head back roughly so he could kiss him on the mouth. Well, less a kiss than colliding his lips sloppily with the other’s identical ones then taking turns latching onto them with his teeth or sucking them.

He’d given up trying not to make any noise by now and while the older Thomas’s whimpers were pleading and nearly high-pitched, the sounds coming from young Thomas’s mouth came straight from deep in his chest and were more like growls punctuated by occasional gasps of “right there…!” and “Oh,  _ **God**_ , yes…!”

It didn’t take long before he could feel the other’s thighs shuddering beneath his own and could feel his hot release inside him. He groaned, tightly gripping his own cock, denying himself of his own orgasm… Well, really he’d been denying himself of his own orgasm all along, just a different self…

The other man slid out of him with ease, limp and slick.

While the older Thomas was still recovering from his orgasm, the younger Thomas crawled up over him until he was practically straddling his face with his hips and pressed the head of his now painfully erect cock against the side of the other’s mouth, rubbing pre-cum against his lips.

“I don’t think you’re quite sorry enough.” he said.

He smiled in a way that could almost have been misconstrued as sweet out of context as he took the other’s jaw in his hand, opening his mouth forcibly. He knew he wouldn’t bite him. Another convenience of torturing yourself.

Holding the other man by the hair he wrenched his head up so he didn’t choke to death before shoving his cock down the other man’s throat in one go.

 _ **God**_ , that was  _ **it**_.

He threw his head back at the feeling of wet, tension as he bumped the back of his throat and Thomas’s tongue squirming in protest against the base and  _ **oh**_  as he shoved himself deeper he could even feel his lips brushing against his balls.

He thrust his hips with force into the other’s mouth again and again, groaning and gritting his teeth to keep from crying out every time he felt the other’s lips dragged across his length.

“Dammit… Thomas….” felt strange to moan out his own name as he felt his balls clench. He pulled Thomas’s head back and released himself onto the other’s face, leaving pearly streaks all over his own real-life reflection until he was limp and his hand loosened in the other’s hair.

 

**notfoul-barrow:**

Thomas audibly gasped  _loudly_  when the knot loosened. His eyes closed briefly, and he exhaled a deep breath. He knew he was so close. God, he was  _so_  close. He needed the younger Thomas so badly. “Yes,” He said as the other slid on top of him again, grunting when his hair was gripped and head was pulled back. He hungrily kissed the younger man, bucking his upwards. He whimpered every time the other clenched down on his member. It would only be a matter of time. 

“Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_ —” The older whimpered, pulling away from the kiss. He could feel that warm feeling building; he was going to lose it any second. “Yes— _yes—_ fuck, right there, yes! Oh  _God!”_ Anything else that came out of his mouth was incoherent. 

And then  _it_  happened. His mind was numbed by the sensation; his orgasm overcoming every part of his body. He cried out, head snapping back as he shot his load into the younger man. Waves of pleasure ran through his body, and he felt like crying tears of joy for finally being able to release. He soon began to relax, feeling his limp dick slid out of the younger man. 

Honestly, he hadn’t been expecting a dick to be suddenly shoved down his throat. Dazed, he glanced up at the younger man as his erection pressed against his lips. “Ahh?” He asked as the other opened his mouth, eyes half-opened.

And as younger Thomas grabbed his hair, he snapped out of his trance only seconds before the other’s large cock was inserted as deep as it could go. Thomas nearly choked, coughing once around the other’s member, letting out a whimper as it drew him out of his own pleasure. Not to mention that the younger bitch’s hand was pulling his hair to the point of being  _really fucking_ painful. His hands squirmed underneath him as his tongue ran around the other’s base in protest, but he knew this man wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Mmph!” He grunted against his dick as it was brutally shoved down his throat over and over again. Thomas kept his mouth as open as possible, afraid he might suffocate. It was a good thing he didn’t really have a gag reflex anymore. He was beginning to feel lightheaded in the bad kind of way as the other continued, but the older couldn’t do much—he just let himself have his mouth fucked, squeezing his lips against the other’s member any time he could to help. His breaths came out quickly through his nose.

Finally, the other relieved him of his brutal blowjob and came over his face. Thomas kept his mouth open, taking whatever seed he could into his mouth, swallowing it down and licking his lips as he tiredly looked up at his younger counterpart. He exhaled a soft sigh of relief when the grip loosened on his hair. 

“Feeling better?” He asked, voice still raspy, especially from the last assault. It felt strange to have another man’s cum on his face; it had been some time since this occurred. He also found it ironic that his younger did what he had  _wanted_ to do earlier. Damn. Perhaps they were partially connected in mind; then again, they were like-minded…

 

**crocodilepatronus:**

Thomas could barely catch his breath.  _I smoke too fucking much_  he thought as he sat down on the bed, doubled over and panting. He wiped a sweaty lock of hair from his forehead and took a deep breath as he felt his heart rate starting to go back down.  _Actually I could use a cigarette right now…._

The image of only moments ago seeing his own face, licking his cum from his lips flickered through his head and he felt a surreal sense of satisfaction.

He half laughed, “I’m feeling much better, thank you very much.”

He looked to the other man lying on the bed. What a lovely sight. Completely naked, his arms tied behind his back, a silk tie still hanging loosely around his throat from where it had been pulled down from his mouth, his hair a mess, and cum still splattered on his face. Young Thomas was still wearing his pants atleast. And with one hand he made an attempt to slick his hair back into place.

He stood up to appreciate looking at the other all the more and sneered down at him.   
“You’re a mess.” he said scathingly.  _I made a mess out of you_. “Don’t look much like under-butler material to me.”

 _You don’t deserve a high position, I do._  But he was him, wasn’t he? No, it was too complicated to think that way. Too complicated for young Thomas at least. Older Thomas may have been one more for introspection but young Thomas tried his best to push away any complicated thoughts from his own head that weren’t strategies on how to get ahead. Better to continue thinking of the older Thomas that he’d just tied up and fucked as separate to himself. Just an enemy that he knew very well.

And if Thomas Barrow was going to become under-butler, he wanted it to be **himself**  Thomas Barrow not the  **other**  Thomas Barrow. He wanted everything  ** _now_**  not later. And this pathetic lout who dared to call himself a Thomas Barrow was a shambles compared to him, young Thomas who he considered nearly perfect.

He half laughed “What would Carson say I wonder? Surely begging to have a cock up your arse doesn’t constitute as ‘upholding the dignity of Downton’.”

He crawled back on top of Thomas, grabbing and pulling him upright by the tie hanging around his neck.

“But I suppose it’s safe to untie you now- ah-  ** _Mr_** _.Barrow_.” he said, his smirk only widening as he unlooped the braces from around the other man’s wrists. “You’re all talk anyway.”

He flicked his tongue against the other’s cheek as he pulled the braces off. 

 

 


	2. Good Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drabble in the same universe

“You look good like this.”

“Fuck off.”

Thomas chuckled at that, shaking his head. His younger self had revelled in dominating _him_ but it seemed when the tables were turned he wasn’t nearly as pleased.

He did look good, though. With the thin strap of leather around his neck tight enough that it made a dip in the line of his skin, the silver buckle resting across his adam’s apple.

It had been a week ago that Thomas (the under butler that is) had been cleaning out a storage closet and found several objects that had been intended for Isis that were never used. _That bloody dog’s more spoiled than all the servants put together_ … he’d thought wryly. There was a sterling silver water bowl that was just collecting dust there that he had a strong urge to pawn off for some extra money. But what had intrigued him more was a number of collars and leashes. He’d found one that was in a small box, covered in tissue paper, and made of fine black leather. Had never been opened. And it came with a matching black leather leash. He’d run his fingertips along it. It was smooth and cool against his skin.

Thomas had snuck the new collar and leash back to his room. He’d started plotting then.

He knew that the younger Thomas was still nicking wine. Young Thomas knew that he knew. He teased him about it.

“I know you can keep a secret” he’d said and winked at him the one time he’d actually caught him red handed.

He’d seen no point in telling Carson. Now that he was the one in charge of the cellar’s inventory it was easy to cover for him. But when Thomas kept a secret it was never without a price and when he’d found the collar he’d decided a good payment to extract. 

“How do I know you won’t still tell Carson?” the younger asked now. It was clearly distressing him to be in the collar. He was fidgeting and wouldn’t look Thomas in the eye.

He shrugged, smiling smugly. “You don’t.” he ran the leash through his fingers slowly. “But if you’re a **very** good boy tonight then I see no reason to tell on you.”

He opened his mouth over Thomas’s, running his tongue along his lips and between his teeth. The kiss broke with a wet sound and despite how embarassed he’d looked before, when Thomas pulled away he saw his younger self breathless and his blue eyes glassy with lust. He leaned forward again, this time lapping his tongue along the other’s neck where leather met skin.

He smirked. “If you had a tail it’d be wagging.”

Color rose to the other’s cheeks and he frowned, looking petulant.

He was enjoying it more than he hoped he was letting on though. Part of the reason he hated his job so often was he couldn’t stand being looked down upon. He wanted to be in control, to be revered by everyone he knew he was better than.

That’s why he didn’t understand why being collared like a dog was giving him such a thrill that went straight to his cock.

And yet there it was… there’s the boner… right there…

He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to get a hold of himself but there was no way the other wouldn’t notice his arousal- he was completely naked save for the collar and leash. The older man’s eyes flicked down between his legs and a wicked smirk crossed his face.

“My, my…” he said clicking his tongue as he ghosted his fingers along his length. “We’ll have to do this more often.” And pushed him back against the bedframe and the wall, giving him a bruising kiss on the mouth. Thomas couldn’t hold back a whimper when he felt the older man’s teeth digging against his lips and he closed his gloved hand around his cock, fisting it roughly. _Leather again_. He found himself jerking his hips up to meet the sensation of it rubbing against his cock.

“God...” he moaned against Thomas’s lips but no sooner had he done so when the other man pulled away. He watched in frustration as he took his hand away from his member and fully undressed himself before coming back to bed. He was giving the younger a predatory look.

It sent a shiver of fear and excitement down his own spine and he swallowed, blurting out instinctively “Thomas- be gentle with me” in a voice of a higher pitch than usual. He felt his eyes go wide as the under butler grabbed his leash and wrapped it twice round his wrist, pulling Thomas’s neck forward and closer to him roughly.

“I won’t make any promises.” he panted and jerked the leash down, pulling Thomas’s head into his lap.

Knowing what was expected of him and in danger of suffocating if he didn’t comply, the younger man began leaving tentative strokes of his tongue against his already hard cock.

“Good doggie” the under butler teased appreciatively.

“Shut up.” Thomas spat, feeling his face go red. All the same he took the other man into his mouth, sucking him until his cheeks hollowed around his length. He heard the older man grunt and felt the collar tighten even more on his neck as the leash was pulled again.

The older Thomas established a rhythm of pulling on the leash, forcing Thomas’s head slowly up and down along his cock.

“You’re my pet” he said darkly.

The footman felt the leather of the glove brush against his shoulders and neck before the man’s hand curled in his hair, pulling him up to look at his face.

Older Thomas eyed himself appraisingly. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen and red. There was still a glimmer of defiance in his pale blue eyes but he liked that. He ran the hand that was scarred gently against his cheek and watched him shudder in pleasure at the touch.

“So I’ll fuck you like a dog too.” he breathed, letting go of the other’s leash. He watched the footman’s face change to surprise then insulted. For a moment he expected him to say no. The older just raised his eyebrows expectantly at him. Thomas set his lips in a firm line but then seemed to swallow his pride and turned around, getting on his hands and knees atop the bed.

A surprised grin broke the under butler’s face. He hadn’t really expected him to give in quite that easily. He was thinking he’d have to atleast bring up blackmail again before he’d bend over so willingly for him.

“Will you get on with it?” he heard the other bite out impatiently.

He fetched the lubricant from the dresser and came back, quickly pushing two slicked fingers into Thomas at once. Possibly too quickly for the younger man groaned and his whole body twitched in discomfort.

He slowly slid his fingers in and out, scissoring them gently until he could feel the muscles relaxing. Once he felt he was suitable prepped the older man eased his own painfully hard cock into him, feeling the stretch with every inch and letting his head fall back in pleasure. Fully sheathed in the other’s tightness, he reached around and grabbed the end of the leash once more, holding it loosely wrapped around his wrist.  

He tugged the leash in rhythm with his thrusts and it wasn’t long before the footman was arching his back and moaning like a whore.

The under butler smirked proudly to himself and picked his hand up, bringing his palm down on the young man’s arse in a sharp slap as he fucked him. The footman let out a small, animalistic yelp that made him laugh.

“You sound like a dog too when you make that noise.”

He used the hand with the leash still in it to reach around Thomas and begin stroking his leaking cock which made the younger man gasp loudly.

“I like you like this, y’know. _Obedient_.” Thomas said with a hint of malice, bringing his gloved hand down again hard on his backside. The man beneath him’s whole body tensed at the slap and the pressure around his dick increased. He grit his teeth, repeating the motion several times.

Young Thomas felt the sting of the smack on his arse setting off nerves that seemed to lead directly to his prick. He involuntarily made a keening noise that he was loathe to admit did sound like a whimpering dog. He was barely getting enough air in each breath because of the tightness of the collar being pulled and it was making him light headed but also as if every sensation between pain and pleasure was all the more vivid because of it and he hadn’t the energy to fight back. The feeling of the leather- cutting into his throat, on Thomas’s gloved hand spanking him, and in the leash held in Thomas’s other hand which was chafing against the skin of his cock with every thrust of the other man’s palm up and down his length- was driving him mad.

“I’m close, Thomas…” he said through gritted teeth.

“Good.” the other moaned behind him, burying himself in him one last time while hitting him in just the right spot.

They came simultaneously, young Thomas biting down hard on his lips to keep from making an embarassing noise and his fingers twisting in the bedsheets.

The under butler sat up when he’d caught his breath and lit a cigarette. He still held the end of the leash loosely in one hand.

“When do I get to take this off?” younger Thomas mumbled, running his finger under the leather. He almost looked… _dissapointed_ that it was over.

The other Thomas smirked, shrugging his shoulders once.

“Don’t know. Haven’t decided yet.”

Emotions flicked over the other’s face- shock, anger, and then something resembling excitement.

-

Two nights later after dinner Thomas caught Thomas walking downstairs with Alfred.

“Thomas- can I speak to you a moment?” the under butler asked casually, barely even looking at him.

The two footmen paused and Alfred’s eyes flicked quickly between the two of them.

The black haired footman’s mouth turned in a sneer. “Certainly, _Mr.Barrow_.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Alfred supressed a snicker and walked to the servant’s hall, leaving the two men alone.

“C’mere.” the older man said quietly, nodding his head. The footman scowled but came over to him.

“You still wearing it?”

Young Thomas refused to look him in the eye and shifted from foot to foot.

“Yes.” he finally bit out in a hushed tone.

 The under butler’s face broke into a grin and he glanced around the hallway quickly before sliding his fingers underneath the other’s starched shirt collar and feeling underneath it the leather strap.

“And no one saw it, right?”

“Well you’d know if they had by now, wouldn’t you?” the footman snapped irritably. He paused and a small smile momentarily turned the corners of his lips. “For a second I thought the Dowager Countess spotted it when I was leaning down to serve her potatoes. Turns out she was just surprised by something Lady Rose said. I nearly had a heart attack.”

Thomas stifled a laugh and drew his hand away. He was about to turn away when the footman grabbed him by his arm.

“Thomas later tonight we can…” he blushed, swallowing and looking away.

“Don’t know. I’m feeling pretty tired.” the under butler said, mocking a yawn. Panic immediately crossed the younger man’s features and his fingernails dug into Thomas’s arm.

“But..! You promised! And last night you wouldn’t let me…” he cut off again.

Of course Thomas wasn’t too tired. But he loved seeing the desperation in his eyes. The night before he’d wrapped the end of the leash around the base of the other man’s cock and had him kneeling on the floor.

He hadn’t let him find release even after he himself had come three times.

He was surprised the circles under the other man’s eyes weren’t darker. _Must not have been easy sleeping with your hands tied behind your back with a leash and your cock so hard it could burst._

 _But it will make tonight even better_ he thought to himself, pressing his hand to the crotch of the footman’s pants and giving a firm squeeze.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you.” the under butler said, smirking at how the other’s eyes lit up and his whole face seemed to relax in relief. “Go up to the room now, though. And get ready for me.”

Thomas swallowed. He was so used to being defiant that sincere obedience went against the grain of his natural tendencies. But finally he gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, limping up the stairs as fast as he could with his erection.

The under butler bided his time downstairs. He went to the servant’s hall and chatted with people casually. He opened the newspaper and read a few pages. He went outside and had a leisurely smoke.

When he walked into the room they shared the first thing he heard was “Where the **_hell_** have you been?!”

He closed the door behind him, locking it. The footman was sitting on the bed stripped completely of his clothes save for, of course, the dog collar round his neck and the leash clipped to it. He was standing at full attention between his legs and there was a tin of lubricant already opened lying next to him on the bed.

 _Good boy_ , the under butler thought approvingly.

The younger man’s face was flushed and his chest heaving with every breath.

“Sorry. Been waiting long?” Thomas asked casually, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the door.

“Close to a bloody hour.”

He looked him over again. There was a bead of cum at the head of the man’s cock but it didn’t look like he’d wanked himself off to orgasm yet. **_Very_** _good boy_. If anyone else told the footman what to do, as soon as their back was turned he would try and find a way to make things easier on himself and get out of it. Only for the under butler was he truly obedient and it gave him a thrill. It was a nice change of pace to have someone take his orders seriously. Even if it wasn’t in exactly a work context.

“Well now that I know you’ve mastered ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ I don’t mind giving you a ‘treat’.” he teased. He whistled once softly then pat his thigh, the way his lordship would do for Isis.

The poor young man looked conflicted. For a moment he sat on the bed shifting slightly like his body was trying to move forward but he was struggling to will himself to stay put. His pride finally gave in and he slowly lowered himself to his knees on the floorboards, then onto all fours.

Thomas watched, his own cock stirring as the other man crawled across the floor to him, head bowed and looking like every movement forward was painful. When he reached him he looked up at him coyly between his bangs, his blue eyes wide and devoid of their usual coldness. Because between the two of them at night there was no need for the usual walls they held. Just for a few hours he could be totally vulnerable and let himself be at the under butler’s mercy.

Young Thomas ran the tip of his tongue over his lips once, nervously and then took the leash around his neck and placed it in the other man’s hand. He cautiously pressed his cheek to Thomas’s thigh, closing his eyes and taking a shaking breath.

“Please… let me cum tonight, master.” 

**Author's Note:**

> so far this is a continuing roleplay.


End file.
